


The Girl with the Flaxen Hair

by dreysam



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Loss of Identity, Memory Alteration, Post-Rebellion Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreysam/pseuds/dreysam
Summary: Homura has some strange coping mechanisms.
Relationships: Akemi Homura/Kaname Madoka, Akemi Homura/Miki Sayaka
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	The Girl with the Flaxen Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Just a weird idea. Not a sequel to my other HomuSaya fic. Hope you remember episode 4 of the anime!

Purple eyes stare into yours. They're beautiful, mesmerizing eyes. They're probing you, first; narrow and piercing. And then they soften.

"You're still here," a voice like silk speaks.

You speak too, not as softly as the silk, higher and rougher like you were made to speak much louder than this. You speak, a smile creeps up your cheeks, "yes, I am."

"That's good. I worry about you."

Your chest warms and your stomach tickles. She was thinking about you.

A cold hand caresses your cheek. Her mouth opens like she's about to speak, but no words come out. Her eyes pull away, and so does her hand.

You speak, "are you okay Homura?"

"Yes, I am. I suppose I just missed you."

"Well I'm here now," you grin.

Homura's eyes are on you again, they hold an expression you can't understand. "Yes, you are. I'm glad you are. I've really missed you."

"I missed you too Homura."

Homura's brow twitches, another expression you couldn't understand. "I love you. Truly."

Your stomach jumps up into your chest and your cheeks get red hot. You remember meeting her for the first time, you remember studying with her after school, feeding the neighborhood cat, introducing her to mom and dad, the sleepovers and the festivals and everything else. She used to be so shy, it makes you so happy to see her so confident in herself now. "I love you too!"

"I got you something. It's a gift." Homura produces a small wrapped box. Your name is written on it in beautiful handwriting that definitely wasn't Homura's normal handwriting. She wrote this with care:  _ For Madoka _

"Open it."

Your fingers tear at the corners of the wrapping paper, careful not to eviscerate the wrapping even though that’s the purpose of wrapping paper. Carefully, you peel the paper back and reveal a small square plastic case. On the cover is a painting of a man. He’s chubby, only a little though. His hair is short and brown, sideswept to his right; he wears his facial hair trimmed into a goatee but the goatee itself is long and bushy. Above the man is a series of words: The Collected Works of Claude Debussy.

You look back up at Homura, eyes gleaming, “Homura! You remembered! Thank you so much! I really love it!"

You get up and hug the raven-haired girl. You're taller than her. You bury your face into her shoulder for a few moments as you feel her arms wrap around your back.

Homura smiles, “yes, of course I remembered. I did a lot of research and apparently this is the best CD. I know it’s still important to you, even in this state.”

“It’s perfect!”

“Would you like to listen to it together?”

“Mhmm!”

“I’ll go get the CD player,” Homura leaves the room. You flip the CD case over to its other side and scan through the words.  _ Clair de Lune, Rêverie, The Girl with the Flaxen Hair. _ It really is perfect.

“I’m back,” Homura holds up the player and a pair of earbuds. She sits down next to you and plugs the earbuds into the box. She holds out her hand and you give her the CD case. She opens it carefully, pulls out the CD, and puts it in the player. Her delicate fingers pick up one of the earbuds, she looks at you and you tilt your head to the side. She slips the earbud into your left ear, then the other earbud into her right ear.

“Any suggestions?”

“Track three please.”

“Alright.” Homura skips to track three and the song begins. The Girl with the Flaxen Hair.

Homura’s leg feels warm pressed up against yours. The piano keys stir you from the inside and only make you want to get closer to her. 

If only you could be like this forever. You put your head on her shoulder and brush a strand of blue hair out of your eye.

She speaks, "I’m really glad we could do this.”

“Me too,” but your voice still wants to speak, it still has something it wants to say, even if it ruins this moment you need to know, “Homura… when can I see my family again?”

“Soon.”

“It’s just… I miss them.”

“I know. You’ll see them soon, I promise. Your mom, your dad, little Tatsuya; everyone.”

“Even Hitomi?”

“Yes, even Hitomi.”

Your mind jumps from Hitomi to that boy like they're two sides of the same coin, “what about Kyousuke?”

“Kyousuke?”

“Mhmm.”

“Kyousuke was Sayaka’s friend. Why would you want to see him?”

You remember sitting in the front seat of the auditorium watching him play. You remember his eyes washing over the audience, you remember his eyes landing on you and lingering just long enough that it felt like the notes he was playing were meant for you and only you. Even though he was your friend and you considered yourself to be his equal; when he was on stage, he was a demigod, wise beyond his years and so much smarter and more mature than you could ever hope to be. “I used to listen to him play the violin.”

“Did you?”

“Mhmm! He was really good too.”

Homura’s voice is measured and careful, “Madoka… I think that’s Sayaka’s memory.”

Your stomach sinks, “oh, is it? I’m sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It was my mistake. I’m still figuring this out,” Homura takes a deep breath, “if it’s alright with you, I’d like to remove that memory and put it in safekeeping.”

You’d do anything to make her happy because you remember how unhappy she used to be, “okay!”

“Thank you.”

You close your eyes and let the music wash away your doubts. If it was Sayaka’s memory, then you shouldn’t have it anyway. Homura is only trying to help. You feel so safe when you’re with her. Ever since you met her, she’s been there for you. You were protective of her at first but now it’s like she’s protecting you. She’s soft and doting and caring, she’s gentle and reserved like she’s afraid of hurting you—of breaking you; which is funny because it used to be the other way around, with you having to be delicate and mindful of pushing her too far out of her comfort zone.

Homura sighs, “I’m going to have to leave soon…”

“Again?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I’d like to stay longer.”

“Don’t worry. I get it.”

“I know. Just once I wish you’d get angry at me and let me know what a bastard I am for leaving you alone all the time.”

“I don’t think that at all, Homura.”

“I know you don’t,” Homura smiles. You pick your head up off her shoulder. She looks at you and chuckles.

“What is it?”

“Your hair, I just can’t get used to it,” she smiles. Her lips press against your cheek and soon she’s gone. You could have sworn you saw the gem on her earring glowing as she closed the door behind her. You’re alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Debussy while writing this


End file.
